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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870698">Fury's Wake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodMorningMoon/pseuds/GoodMorningMoon'>GoodMorningMoon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Murdoch Mysteries</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath, Bruises, Caretaking, Character Study, Edwardian Period, Episode Related, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Historical, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, POV Alternating, Rabies, Recovery, Sleep Deprivation, Travel, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:40:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28870698</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodMorningMoon/pseuds/GoodMorningMoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Julia, Murdoch, James Pendrick, and Terrence Meyers start to work through the aftermath of another brush with death. Spoilers for 14x03, "Code M for Murdoch."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julia Ogden &amp; James Pendrick, Julia Ogden &amp; Terrence Meyers, William Murdoch/Julia Ogden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julia swayed unsteadily, William clutching her hand as they picked their way across the forest floor behind James Pendrick and Terrence Meyers. Every step brought them closer to the bridge that would take them away from this place, from Goat Island, back to the mainland and back to the first of the trains that would take them home.</p><p>She wondered if he could feel her shaking. <em>Rabies.</em> <em>How can I have contracted </em>rabies<em>—and been cured of it—in less than an hour? The incubation period is up to a year! Rabies is fatal! I should be dead! </em></p><p>Her head was buzzing with questions and riddles and adrenaline as she tried to understand what had just happened. <em>Pendrick. How did he do this?</em></p><p>The prospect of a scientific discussion with a man of Pendrick’s intellect would usually quite enthrall her, but today her eyes nearly glazed at the thought. Her whole body tingled as the nervous energy slipped away, and the exhaustion was starting to overcome her. She wondered whether her heart rate would ever come down.</p><p>She stumbled, and William caught her. “Julia,” he murmured, “Are you all right?’</p><p>She pulled her arm toward herself. The place where James Pendrick had plunged the needle into it was growing sore. <em>He saved my life. James Pendrick’s work nearly killed me, and James Pendrick saved my life.</em></p><p>
  <em>The raw panic in William’s eyes when I started to convulse. The retching. Terrence Meyers acting like a mother hen. I hardly knew who I was. I was seconds from death. Everything aches. My head hasn’t stopped pounding.</em>
</p><p>She shuddered. “Someday I will be, I suppose,” she finally answered her husband, giving a wan smile that did not reach her eyes. She could still feel the texture of the foam in her mouth, the sensation of her teeth sinking into Allen Clegg’s hand. She was torn between an almost feral satisfaction at the memory, and a nagging sense of horror that she, Julia Ogden, medical doctor and surgeon, had deliberately inflicted injury on another human being.</p><p>
  <em>Although I suppose it was hardly deliberate. I was delirious, after all.</em>
</p><p>They trudged along. Meyers and Pendrick spoke in low voices ahead of them, glancing back at her now and then, Meyers’s expression solicitous, Pendrick’s both relieved and contrite. She could not focus on their conversation.</p><p><em>Rabies. How can I have had </em>rabies?</p><p>She stumbled again, her foot catching on a root.</p><p>“Julia,” William chided gently, stopping long enough to draw her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist as she tried to collect herself.</p><p>“I’m fine, William.”</p><p>She knew the lie was obvious, but the great detective did not challenge her. He merely pulled her closer still to kiss her forehead. “Come along, Julia. Let’s get you home.”</p><p>
  <em>He certainly feels me shaking now.</em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Murdoch’s relief was immense when the four hapless travellers finally found their way back to the long pedestrian bridge to the mainland, where a carriage awaited them. He noted, as he and Pendrick were both moving to help Julia inside, that Terrence Meyers went forward to speak briefly to the coachman. Meyers pitched his regular baritone even lower, and Murdoch could not hear what he said before Meyers handed the man a Canadian $4 note. <em>Good heavens, he’s feeling generous today</em>.</p><p>“Gentlemen, I assure you I’m quite all right,” Julia protested as Meyers left the beaming driver and arrived to help her up the step as well.</p><p>“Julia.” Pendrick lifted a gentle hand to her back. “If my experience is any indication, you’re going to be exhausted and sore for a day or two while your body recovers from the rush of adrenaline and the strain of the convulsions.” Meyers offered her an arm as he opened the carriage door. She shot a look of mild exasperation at both of them, but William caught her eye and shook his head. <em>You nearly </em>died<em>, Julia. We all might have. Let them help you.</em></p><p>He left the words unspoken, but she seemed to catch his meaning nonetheless. “Yes, I suppose so, Mister Pendrick,” she acquiesced, and took Meyers’ arm without further protest.</p><p>Meyers did not follow them into the carriage. Instead, he told them he would be a few minutes, and slipped around a corner and out of sight. Murdoch supposed he was going to report the body left on Goat Island, and knew Murdoch would not wish to leave his wife’s side. And so they waited.</p><p>Both Julia and Pendrick, seated across from each other, were fast asleep when Meyers finally returned. Murdoch was so focused on holding Julia close to himself, feeling the weight of her head on his shoulder, taking in her solidity and her warmth and her perfume, that the sudden opening of the door startled him.</p><p>Julia stirred as Meyers climbed inside. Meyers nodded in greeting, then glanced at Pendrick. He tapped Murdoch’s knee in alarm, and gestured toward the sleeping man. Pendrick was slumped against the side of the coach, eyes closed, mouth open to draw a breath that clearly pained him. His arms were wrapped closely around himself, and his complexion was nearly grey. He flinched with the movement of the carriage. Facial hair or no, Murdoch did not recall ever seeing the usually dashing figure look so haggard.</p><p>A flash of memory. Julia, greeting Pendrick in the bunker. <em>Are you all right? </em></p><p>
  <em>Beaten, sleep-deprived, but otherwise fine.</em>
</p><p><em>Beaten</em>.</p><p>The way he was pacing the makeshift laboratory, unable to remain still. His stiff bearing. The way he flinched when Clegg clapped his shoulder. Clegg would have known just where to hit him.</p><p>The man was hurt.</p><p>“Mister Pendrick?”</p><p>The answer came slowly. “What is it, Murdoch?”</p><p>He squeezed Julia’s shoulder before he replied. “You’re injured.”</p><p>He felt Julia stiffen. She shifted, and sat up, her demeanour changing instantly. “Mister Pendrick, are you all right?” she asked him again as she leaned toward him, able to scrutinise him much more closely this time.</p><p>“You said you were beaten. Where?” Murdoch continued, not waiting for Pendrick’s reply. Julia raised two fingers to Pendrick’s throat, and Murdoch noticed a slight recoil at her touch. They all waited a moment while she checked his pulse, and then lifted his eyelids one at a time to peer inside.</p><p>“Torso, mostly,” Pendrick finally answered, squinting back at Murdoch. “Back, and sides. I managed to curl into a ball for the worst of it, and Clegg told his brute not to touch my head or hands because he wanted me left able to work.”</p><p>Julia immediately scooted forward on her seat, and extended both hands to reach under Pendrick’s waistcoat and examine his ribs.</p><p>“What did he hit you with? Did he use a weapon?” Murdoch pressed, and Pendrick hissed a little as Julia’s hands met his sides and worked their way around to his back.</p><p>“Not that I saw. Just his fists. They were”—he yelped at Julia’s prodding—“painful enough.”</p><p>“And you went through the same convulsions I did before Doctor Quinlan could administer the cure.”</p><p>He squeezed his eyes closed, and gave a single nod.</p><p>“And you’ve not slept more than a few hours for several nights now.” Julia’s tone was low and sympathetic.</p><p>“No, Doctor Ogden. I have not.”</p><p>Julia sat back and studied him before she made her report. “I’ll need you to disrobe before I can make a proper examination, but from a cursory one, I shouldn’t think anything’s broken. You’re clearly very sore, both from the beating and your ordeal from the rabies, and extremely fatigued. And I should think you would do well with a hearty meal.”</p><p>“I believe I should enjoy that, Doctor.” He leaned back against the window. “After some sleep, perhaps.”</p><p>“Indeed, Mister Pendrick.” She turned to Terrence Meyers. “Might I ask that we procure some sort of pain relief for him before we board the train?”</p><p>Pendrick’s eyes drifted closed again, and he grimaced as the coach hit a bump. “I… would certainly welcome such. It has been an extraordinarily taxing and uncomfortable few days.”</p><p>Meyers laid a careful hand on Pendrick’s shoulder. “I imagine it has, Pendrick. We’ve got you. Svetlana is waiting in Toronto. You’ll see her in a matter of hours.”</p><p>“Thank you, Terrence.” Pendrick’s voice was hoarse, and a tear slipped down his cheek. Murdoch was not surprised, given the man’s heart was permanently affixed to his sleeve. What did strike him, though, and not for the first time that day, was Meyers’ uncharacteristic kindness. The man had shown genuine concern when Julia was wheezing and thrashing in the bunker, and Murdoch had not missed his sharp breaths and extended arm nearly every time Julia stumbled in the woods. And here he was being positively tender with James Pendrick. He supposed, after so many life-and-death encounters with the brusque, often brutal spy, that he might consider Terrence Meyers a friend. <em>Espionage makes strange bedfellows, I suppose. And Mister Meyers is more sentimental than he would ever be willing to admit.</em></p><p>“Very well, then,” Meyers intoned as Murdoch once more draped a protective arm around his wife. “We shall make a stop before we cross the bridge to Canada. We must notify the local police of the body of Allan Clegg’s henchman, and alert them to be on the lookout for Mister Clegg himself. Then we shall cross the bridge to Canada, secure any provisions we might need for the ride home, and catch our train from there.”</p><p>“Why not buy what we need here?” Julia asked. "Mister Pendrick could surely use some liniment and laudanum, and I might bind his ribs to help with the pain of the bruising. And we will need a meal soon as well..."</p><p>Meyers smirked. “I shouldn’t wish to remain on this side of the border any longer than is absolutely necessary.”</p><p>Murdoch chuckled. He withdrew a train schedule from the inside pocket of his jacket, but did not unfold it. “I believe the next train from Niagara Falls on the Canadian side departs at 6:15pm, and arrives back in Toronto at 8:55.”  </p><p>“The next <em>Canadian Pacific</em> train, Murdoch. I have something else in mind. I believe you’ll find it more accommodating.” Murdoch’s eyebrow rose at Meyers’ conspiratorial wink and half-smile as he knocked on the window of the carriage. The driver lifted the reins, and they were off.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James Pendrick stood naked, letting the hot water rain down on his head and shoulders as he inhaled deeply of the steam. The fresh bar of soap that awaited him in the shower smelled of peppermint and eucalyptus, and the bar of castile shampoo bore a faint, pleasant scent of something he couldn’t quite place. He slowly lifted his arms to lather his hair, and as his fingers worked their way around his scalp, he shook his head and laughed aloud.</p><p><em>How preposterous,</em> he thought. <em>How marvellous, and wonderful, and preposterous.</em> Mere hours ago, he had been languishing in an underground bunker on the island between the American and Canadian sides of Niagara Falls. Now here he was, showering in a sleek marble bathroom, riding home to Toronto in the most elegantly appointed train car he had been aboard in years. Somehow (Pendrick thought perhaps it best not to ask), Terrence Meyers had managed to secure the loan of the car for the evening, muttering something about a favour owed by a Buffalo businessman. James Pendrick and the friends who had rescued him were safely on their way back to Toronto in style.</p><p>He groaned slightly as he reached around himself to scrub his back, and hissed as he touched it. He could only imagine how bruised it must be. Julia had offered to help him, but he had declined, determined to look after himself while he was in the altogether. <em>She is a medical doctor, yes, but she is also another man’s wife.</em></p><p>He tried to breathe in the soap’s scent, but he was too sore to inhale at all deeply. Instead, he returned the bar to the dish, and stepped under the shower head once more, hoping the water might wash away at least some of the pain he felt he might never be able to bear.</p><p>Every time he closed his eyes, he could see that loyal, trusting face gazing up at him with adoration as he scratched his beloved dog behind the ears, shifting into the frothing, rabid mass of teeth and rage that might have killed him, too, had he not found his gun and pulled the trigger. The grief had driven him nearly to madness. And he hardly knew what to do with the guilt of knowing his work to save others from such agony had nearly killed Doctor Ogden.</p><p>
  <em>If she and I did not share a blood type…</em>
</p><p>He shuddered, and turned off the tap.</p><p><em>Damn you, Allan Clegg. Damn you to Hell for trying to hurt her</em>.</p><p>He stepped out of the shower, his feet sinking into a plush bathmat, and retrieved a towel. As he dried his hair, he surveyed the small, elegant compartment, with its gleaming metal sink and spotless marble vanity. The compact counter bore a safety razor and a container of fresh blades, a shaving brush and mug, and soap.</p><p>He absently rubbed his chin, and was mildly surprised to note how much his beard had grown. He grabbed another small towel and wiped off the mirror. For the first time since his abduction, he could see himself, and he turned to study his own image.</p><p><em>I look awful</em>, he thought. His eyes were sunken, his complexion pallid, his face drawn. He was so very tired, and every movement pained him.</p><p>It took longer than usual to shave himself, partly because of the swaying of the train, and partly because he did not trust himself to work at his customary pace. He did not wish to bleed all over this lovely little room. Once finished, he dried his face and donned the silk dressing gown hanging from the back of the door, then drew one more cautious breath of the humid air before he emerged into the stateroom. He knocked on the door that led to the parlour, as he and Doctor Ogden had agreed, and then he sank down onto the bed.</p><p>The door opened, and both Doctor Ogden and Murdoch came in. Julia smiled to see his cleanshaven face as Murdoch commented, “Glad to see you looking more like yourself, Mister Pendrick.”</p><p>“As am I. I was positively scruffy.” He gave a wry smile and rubbed his chin as Julia approached.</p><p>“I’d like to examine you properly now, Mister Pendrick, if that’s all right with you. And I’ve brought you a dose of laudanum.”</p><p>“Of course. And thank you. And please, call me James.”</p><p>She smiled as she handed him a small glass and waited for him to down its contents. “Indeed I shall, then. I’m afraid I haven’t a stethoscope, so I must apply my ear to your chest and back,” she apologised as she eased his arms out of the dressing gown and let it fall to his waist. He flushed slightly, and nodded assent. <em>Come now, James. You know far better. And Sveta is waiting…</em></p><p>This time, the good doctor’s examination was far more thorough. She leaned in to listen to his lungs and heart, and gently passed her hands around his torso in a more careful assessment of the damage done by Clegg’s brute. He tried to remain stoic, but now and again she would hit a particularly tender spot, making him wince and inhale sharply.</p><p>“I’m sorry, James. I’ll be through in a moment, and then I can apply some liniment. William will help me bind your ribs. I’m not finding any cracks, and the shower has gotten some of the blood moving out of the bruises on your back, but I think you’d still do best with liniment and some bandaging so that movement hurts less.”</p><p>“Thank you, Julia, but I hardly think it necessary…” he began as he turned toward her, and gasped. She grimaced in sympathy as his muscles ached at the memory of what they had both gone through, the spasms they had endured. He shut his eyes for a moment, and his dog’s ever-present face dissolved into a thrashing, desperate Julia Ogden.</p><p>
  <em>She came to save my life, and my work nearly killed her. </em>
</p><p>“Mister Pendrick.” Murdoch’s voice startled him. “Might I suggest you move to the corner of the bed, so that Julia has an easier time applying the liniment? Or would you prefer I do it?”</p><p>Julia’s grimace as she tried to open the tightly capped bottle of liniment did not escape him. “Julia,” he began. “You’re sore.” She did not disagree, and he continued. “My own ordeal with the rabies and the antidote was most exhausting, and Doctor Quinlan administered the cure to me far earlier than I was able to do for you. Rueful though I am not to welcome your ministrations, I strongly suggest you rest for the remainder of our journey.”</p><p>She lowered the bottle and gave a weary smile as she studied it. “I confess there have been times when I have felt far more refreshed than I do at the moment.”</p><p>Pendrick took her hand, and swallowed. “Julia. I am truly sorry. I… I would never in a million years have imagined that you—”</p><p>She scoffed, and her expression turned to one of mischief. “Mister Pendrick. James. Of course you didn’t. And now I am safe, and you are safe, and I cannot say I regret the opportunity to sink my teeth into Allan Clegg. I do loathe that man. I dare say biting him with all my might was most satisfying.”</p><p>Murdoch choked, his eyebrows rising in alarm. “Julia, you’re not going to make a <em>habit</em> of biting people, are you?”</p><p>She shot a mirthful look at Pendrick before she answered. “Only when they ask, William.” She bared her teeth at her husband, and laughed.</p><p>Murdoch reddened slightly at Pendrick’s strangled guffaw. “Good to see you feeling better, Julia," Pendrick told her with affection. "Nevertheless! You should rest.”</p><p>“Go to bed, Julia. I’ll look after Mister Pendrick here.” Murdoch took the liniment from her hand and opened it easily. The strong, distinctive scent filled the room almost instantly.</p><p>She exhaled and shook her head in defeat. “I suppose. You’ll be all right to wrap him?”</p><p>“You’ve done it for me enough times…”</p><p>“Indeed I have. Very well, then, <em>Doctor</em> Pendrick, I shall try to nap for the few short hours until we arrive in Toronto. Although it does seem a shame to sleep through the creature comforts of such luxurious accommodation…”</p><p>“<em>Julia</em>. Shoo. <em>Rest.</em>” Murdoch waved her away as he poured some liniment into his cupped hand and began to apply it to Pendrick’s purpled back. She smiled, and forgot herself as she curtsied in jest, then gasped and winced at the movement.</p><p>“Perhaps I shouldn’t mind some of that laudanum myself,” she told them ruefully as she headed back into the parlour, then brightened. “Or perchance a large glass of scotch.” She giggled as the door latch clicked, and then she was gone.</p><p>“William Murdoch, you have married a most extraordinary woman. But you knew that. I must say it gives me great pleasure to see the two of you together, and still in love.”</p><p>Pendrick thought he saw a flicker of wistfulness in Murdoch’s eyes before he smiled. “We are that, yes. She is extraordinary indeed.”</p><p>
  <em>Thank God we did not lose her today, old friend.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>That is a mighty fine scotch, </em>Terrence Meyers mused, and raised his crystal tumbler in salute to their absent host. <em>Mister George K. Birge has always known how to treat his guests. His father taught him well.</em></p><p>Meyers sat back on the plush chesterfield sofa, lifted his feet onto the coffee table, and grinned. Everything shook back and forth for a moment as the train was caught by a gust of wind from the lake. But for the movement and the scenery rushing past, Meyers might have believed himself in the sitting room of a finely appointed mansion.</p><p>Pulling a cigar out of his pocket, he once again surveyed the parlour. It truly was an exquisite space, full of polished wood panelling and Persian rugs and overstuffed leather armchairs in front of a single log crackling away in the marble fireplace. Just the sort of environs in which he had always imagined himself, since well before he signed up for a career as a spy. This would do.</p><p>Meyers supposed Birge was relieved that this was the favour that Terrence had finally called in after so many years. Neither he nor the Buffalo wallpaper manufacturer turned hopeful car baron<a href="#_edn1" id="_ednref1" name="_ednref1">[i]</a> would ever speak of why the latter would be willing to loan out his lavish private train car and its staff for the evening. It was a matter best left in the past. He himself was glad that he could take his friends—yes, he would let himself consider them friends—home in style.</p><p>He was just about to clip the end off the cigar when Julia emerged from one of the staterooms, rolling her sleeves down from her elbows. “Doctor Ogden,” he said as he rose to greet her. “How are you faring? Shouldn’t you be resting?”</p><p>“Not you too,” she said with mock horror. “William and Mister Pendrick have shooed me to bed, but I shouldn’t wish to miss the chance to enjoy the comforts of this lovely parlour.”</p><p>“I suppose I shouldn’t encourage you, but very well, then.” Meyers grinned, and gestured her to an armchair. She lowered herself into it gingerly as he poured her a glass of scotch. She accepted it with a grateful smile, and took a drink.</p><p>“Oh, that’s nice,” she sighed, and closed her eyes in pleasure as she leaned back in the chair.</p><p>A terrible image arose unbidden. <em>Julia Ogden, bound to a chair to keep her safe from her violent paroxysms, head thrown back in desperation and agony as Pendrick’s disease moved like lightning through her veins. A sneering Allan Clegg, eagerly tormenting her like the disgusting sadist that he is. </em></p><p>
  <em>I should have killed him when I had the chance.</em>
</p><p>“Julia. Are you sure you’re all right?” He wondered if she could hear the regret in his voice. <em>Of course she can. She’s a psychiatrist.</em></p><p>She opened her eyes, and shrugged. “I suppose I am. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure, I hope. And some more of this.” She sat up, drained her glass, and extended it for a refill. Meyers chuckled as he obliged.</p><p>He gestured toward the cigar. “I was just about to indulge. Do you mind…”</p><p>“Well, William detests them, but I do enjoy one now and again. Don’t mind if I do.” She took another gulp of the whisky, and gave him a most disarming smile.</p><p>Meyers nearly choked. “Very well, then, Doctor Ogden, be my guest.” He presented the box, and she selected one. He took it from her long enough to clip off its end and that of his own. He reached over to the side table to procure a light from Birge’s elegant silver matchbox.</p><p>She took the cigar between her lips, and gratefully accepted the proffered light. The first puff left her looking relaxed and content as she tipped her head back and blew out the smoke, a bit at a time.</p><p>“Smoke rings, Doctor? I dare say I’m impressed.”</p><p>She giggled, and blew a few more. “Doctor Grace taught me.”</p><p>Meyers’ eyebrows rose. “It is indeed… <em>refreshing</em> to encounter women so, shall we say, unencumbered by so many of the conventions of ladyhood.”</p><p>“I should think ‘shackles’ a more appropriate word, and I for one am sick of them.” Her gaze turned thoughtful as she took another draw from her cigar, then waved it to gesture around the parlour as she exhaled. “Now tell me, Mister Meyers: how is it that we are travelling in such luxury? Is this… Sir Wilfrid’s personal car?”</p><p>“Good heavens, no,” Meyers snorted, and raised his own cigar to his mouth to light it. “His stays with him, and he’s in Ottawa.” He glanced around to make sure none of the car’s three attendants was nearby, and lowered his voice. “And might I say that his hardly holds a candle to this one.”</p><p>“This one does strike me as particularly lavish! I dare say I enjoyed the rare times we travelled with Father’s friends on their private car. It was lovely, but it hardly had a crystal chandelier, or such ornately carved woodwork, or gold-plated fittings. And four staterooms? And running water? My goodness!” She tilted her head back once more, and gazed upwards. “And did you notice the plasterwork in the ceiling? There were artists at work here! I must know, Mister Meyers. How on Earth did you manage to secure this?”</p><p>He looked away, uncomfortable. “Oh, never mind that. Let’s just say that… an old, ah, <em>friend</em> in Buffalo owed me a favour. I knew his father. He’s been waiting for me to call it in for years.”</p><p>“I see.” <em>That dazzling smile.</em> He watched as she studied him and considered whether to probe further, and finally decided that more information would not be forthcoming. “Well, thank you for using it for us.”</p><p>The stateroom door opened once again, and Murdoch emerged. “How’s our patient?” Julia asked, and blew another smoke ring.</p><p>“<em>Julia!”</em> Murdoch was horrified. “You should be in <em>bed! </em>And is that a <em>cigar?</em>”</p><p>She ignored his question, and beckoned to the chair beside hers. “Join us, William. We were just discussing how Mister Meyers was fortunate enough to secure the loan of this exquisite train car for our journey home. How I wish the trip were longer!”</p><p>Murdoch gave a hard stare at Meyers. “Mister Meyers, you were there to witness Doctor Ogden’s ordeal today. Mister Pendrick was very clear that she needs rest!”</p><p>Her tone was both impatient and affectionate. “Come now, William. I find it most restful to enjoy a nice dram and a Cuban cigar in such grand surroundings.”</p><p>“But you said you would…” her husband sputtered.</p><p>She chuckled. “I suppose I did, didn’t I. How is Mister Pendrick?”</p><p>“His ribs are bound and he is resting comfortably. Which <em>you</em> should be, as well.”</p><p>He glowered.</p><p>She shot him a defensive glare, and swirled the whisky in her glass before she took another drink. “All right, all right. I will. I promise. After I’ve finished this.”</p><p>“Mister Meyers, I dare say you are a terrible influence on my wife.” Murdoch sank into another armchair, defeated even as a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.</p><p>Meyers’ eyebrows rose again. “My dear Murdoch, your wife is perfectly capable of making her own decisions and looking after herself, as we saw once again today when she saved us all from Allan Clegg.”</p><p>An image, unbidden: <em>Julia, jerking uncontrollably and retching, bound to the chair, forcibly restrained so she could not dash herself into the wall. Murdoch, crying out in panic for Pendrick to inject her with the cure. </em>He could still feel her shoulder trembling under his hand.</p><p>He swallowed. Perhaps now was not the time to indulge in witnessing her, for lack of a better term, <em>wild streak. </em>“However. Doctor Ogden, you did go through quite an ordeal today, and I do understand your husband’s insistence. Perhaps you might indulge him?”</p><p>A genuine flash of anger crossed her face. “Mister Meyers. I shouldn’t wish to be told what to do.” She took another puff on the cigar, and shaped her mouth into an O to blow a few more rings.</p><p><em>Heaven forbid you might listen to a </em>man<em>, Doctor, </em>Meyers fumed silently.</p><p>“Julia, please.” Murdoch was extending a hand to her, his expression sad, even plaintive. “<em>Please</em>, Julia. We could so easily have lost you today.” He held her gaze until Meyers finally saw the fight go out of her. “Come with me, Julia.”</p><p>She sighed with slight exasperation, and downed the rest of her drink before she stubbed out the cigar in the heavy crystal ashtray. “Very well, then, I suppose. It was just such lovely scotch! And a simply delicious cigar. But I shall rest. Mister Meyers, thank you for the company, and the cigar.” She rose, rather stiffly, and took Murdoch’s arm. “Until Toronto.”</p><p>“Until Toronto, Doctor.”</p><p>“<em>Thank </em>you, Mister Meyers.” Meyers could not quite tell whether Murdoch’s parting words were sarcastic or genuine. He decided to treat them as the latter.</p><p>“You’re very welcome, Detective. I suspect she needs both rest <em>and</em> a chance to unwind with an old friend.”</p><p>“Friend?” Murdoch was sceptical. “As I recall, friendship requires mutual affection from both parties, and…”</p><p>“Oh, hush, Murdoch.” The alcohol was already loosening Meyers’ tongue, and he snickered. “You <em>care</em> about me. You dragged me and my punctured lung all the way back from Crane Lake. You could have just left me there to die in the woods, and by the time my body was found, the time of my death would have been so obscured that no one would have been the wiser.”</p><p>“Mister <em>Meyers! </em>I would <em>never! </em>Not even a <em>murderer!”</em> Murdoch sputtered, indignant, but Meyers pressed on.</p><p>“Of course you wouldn’t, Murdoch. That’s why I like you. I don’t get to work with a lot of people like you. You’re an honest man.” He took another belt of whisky, and held it in his mouth. <em>I’ll have to ask Birge where he gets this stuff.</em></p><p>Murdoch was taken aback. “I… well, I suppose I should… thank you, then?”</p><p>“Indeed you should, Detective. I sometimes fear my regard for the two of you might somehow... compromise me, someday.”</p><p>“Is that so, Mister Meyers.” Murdoch’s expression was unreadable. “I hope not, for several reasons.”</p><p>“And not the least of them is that you always hope you need never work with me again,” Meyers quipped, and grinned.</p><p>Murdoch glanced up toward the ornate plasterwork, and then gestured toward the staterooms. “Ah, Mister Meyers, perhaps you might partake of some of the food that your, ah, friend provided?” <em>Was that a hint of a smirk as he deliberately changed the subject?</em> “Through there, in the dining room. We’ve already eaten, just before Mister Pendrick had his shower. You were with the telegrapher, in the third stateroom.”</p><p>Meyers nodded grimly. “Yes, with Ottawa. My superiors wished me to tell you that your service to our country is once again noted and appreciated. And I was able to report that the threat from Pendrick’s fast-acting rabies has been eliminated, even if Clegg himself has not. As you noted, the man is hard to kill.”</p><p>“What did they say about that?”</p><p>“A body had better show up downriver, is what I’m told. Oh, I assure you, I got quite the dressing-down.”</p><p>“Dressing down, are we?” Julia offered. “Don’t mind if I do.” She giggled as she gestured toward the top button of her blouse, and leaned over to kiss her husband.</p><p>“Murdoch, please, take Doctor Ogden to bed.” Meyers tried not to laugh at Murdoch’s sidelong glance as they both saw that the whisky was hitting Julia, too. Perhaps he should not have been so generous with the bottle…</p><p> </p><p><a href="#_ednref1" id="_edn1" name="_edn1">[i]</a> Maura Christie, <a href="https://www.niagara-gazette.com/news/local_news/journey-through-history-george-kingsley-birge-and-the-building-up-of-buffalo/article_4e72054e-36e0-11e7-8837-976473b21fb2.html">Journey through history: George Kingsley Birge and the building up of Buffalo</a>, <em>Niagara Gazette, </em>May 12, 2017.</p><p>Details about the train car from Robert Khedarian's article, "<a href="https://archive.curbed.com/2018/2/1/16943216/pullman-private-railroad-car-history">The history of private Pullman train cars</a>," Curbed, February 1, 2018.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Julia’s mischievous energy had evaporated completely not far past St. Catharines: once William finally coaxed her into the hand-carved bed with its buttery sheets, she knew nothing more of their journey until the train was pulling into the Don Station and William was gently shaking her awake. She was still groggy as he guided her down the steps to the platform and into Meyers’ waiting carriage.</p><p>Meyers muttered some instructions to the driver, and then climbed in after Pendrick, who immediately dozed off on the side of the carriage. Julia laid her head on William’s shoulder, and she, too, was asleep again in an instant.</p><p>They pulled up to the house on Lamport Avenue sometime after midnight. All four of the carriage’s occupants climbed out to bid each other good evening, Pendrick and Meyers bowing to Julia and shaking William’s hand in earnest before Pendrick pulled each of them into a heartfelt embrace. As they climbed back into the carriage, Julia was amused to hear Pendrick accept Meyers’ offer of a room at the Windsor House Hotel at the Queen’s expense: it was the least he could do, Meyers insisted.</p><p><em>How unlike him to be so </em>generous, Julia mused. <em>Did he… continue with the </em>whisky<em> after William </em>whisked<em> me away? </em>Exhausted, she tittered a little too loudly at her own joke. William gave her a curious look as he wrapped his arm around her and led her into the house. The driver called out to the horses, and the carriage pulled away.</p><p><em>Home.</em> She let out a heavy sigh as they crossed the threshold and William closed the door behind them. She all but closed her eyes as he guided her to the bedroom, and gestured her to the stool where she sat twice a day for him to help her in and out of her corset. She was perfectly capable of doing it herself, but it was so much easier to let him, and he did enjoy it so.</p><p>Her head drooped as he eased her out of her blouse and began to unlace her. She reached up to take down her hair, but William laid a gentle hand on her arm to stop her. He raised his fingers to her shoulder, and traced them over the welt where Clegg’s thug had driven in the needle, grimacing in sympathy at her flinch.</p><p>Neither of them said a word as he traced a line of kisses from the bruise to the back of her ear, then resumed his work to disrobe her. He finally broke the silence with a softly spoken question as he removed her corset. “Would you like your bath now, or…?”</p><p>“Thank you, William. I…” She hesitated. “In the morning. Sleep now.”</p><p>He retrieved a set of his own pyjamas from the drawer, and unfolded the shirt. “Are those for me?” Julia asked. “My nightgown is right there…”</p><p>“I didn’t think you’d want to reach above your head,” he told her as his fingers worked on the buttons. She thought to protest for a moment, and then it hit her: he was right. She most certainly did not wish to lift her arms, or anything else. She was <em>sore</em>, and not quite back from tipsy, and she wanted to be in her bed as quickly as possible.</p><p>William was happy to oblige, and Julia found herself pyjama-clad and safely tucked in before he even began his own evening ablutions. While she waited for him to join her, she lay motionless, feeling the weight of the covers. She stared at the wall, watching the faint, moonlit shadows of waving trees while her mind skittered from thought to thought, memory to memory, like an errant drop of mercury escaping across the desk.</p><p>
  <em>I could have died today.</em>
</p><p>Death and its trappings were intimately familiar to Julia Ogden. For too many years, she had lived with its constant presence, from the loss of her mother when she was a child, to all the years spent with cadavers in the morgue, to the times she had found herself truly convinced her own life was at its end. Knives at her throat, the noose and the coffin courtesy of James Gillies, the bullet wounds from Eva Pearce, the flames consuming the building she thought she could not escape…</p><p>And she had taken life, too. Once as an act of mercy, and twice in self-defence when her own life was at risk. (A baser part of her hoped her desperate move today had done it once more.)</p><p>The breeze outside must have died down, as the leafy shadows stilled. Julia continued to ruminate, turning her thoughts back to the day’s brush with Fate. The more she considered it, the more preposterous it seemed. <em>Rabies, of all things. Fast-acting rabies, deliberately engineered, and cured in a matter of moments. </em>She nearly laughed in disbelief. <em>Rabies! I was rabid! Foaming at the mouth! </em>It was utterly absurd.</p><p>She was no closer to sleep when William finally came to bed, smelling faintly of tooth powder and olive oil soap. He climbed under the covers and lay on his back, extending an arm and waiting as he always did for Julia to nestle on his chest. She pushed herself up on her elbow and rolled over to oblige him, and he pulled her close.</p><p>She shifted, and sighed, trying to stifle a laugh. <em>Rabies.</em></p><p>“Julia. Are you sure you’re all right?” He was using that protective tone that he always did when she was ill or in danger.</p><p>“I’m <em>fine</em>, William. Just tired and sore.” She could almost feel his eyebrow rise. “I’ve not had any symptoms of the rabies since James injected me with the cure. No fever, no headache or nausea, and I’ve not felt anxious since we left Goat Island. Although I suppose I can go to the hospital in the morning for them to poke and prod at me, if it will make you feel better.”</p><p>He tightened his embrace. “Indeed it would.”</p><p>For a time, neither of them spoke. Julia was contemplating the sheer ludicrousness of the day’s events when William finally broke the silence. “I almost lost you.”</p><p>“But you haven’t. I’m right here with you, William. I’m alive, and only slightly the worse for wear.” A hint of mirth crept into her voice. “I suppose the whole experience was rather thrilling, in a way.”</p><p>William’s entire body stiffened next to hers. “<em>Thrilling?</em>” He was clearly horrified. “Julia, you nearly <em>died</em>.”</p><p>“I suppose so. But how many people are able to say they’ve been cured of rabies?”</p><p>“Well, yes,” he began, sputtering, as she laid a finger on his lips to shush him.</p><p>“And I did get to take a healthy bite of Allan Clegg.” There was the giggle she could no longer suppress.</p><p>William nearly choked. “You <em>bit</em> him,” he agreed, incredulous and amused.</p><p>“I did.” Though she knew he could not see her, she was smiling broadly, elated. Somehow, she had managed to cheat death yet again.</p><p>“I love you, William<em>,</em>” she whispered as she lifted his hand to kiss the inside of his palm, then placed it back on her side. “And I’m alive.”</p><p>“Mmm,” he replied contentedly, and kissed the top of her head as his chest rose and fell underneath it. She slowed her breathing to match the rhythm of his, and within moments, they were both sound asleep.</p><p> </p>
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